


Sore Loser

by IReadAndWriteSometimes



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Humor, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IReadAndWriteSometimes/pseuds/IReadAndWriteSometimes
Summary: Snacks are an important part of watching football.
Relationships: Andy Flynn/Sharon Raydor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Sore Loser

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt so old I forgot who gave it to me, but thankfully escapewithstories has a much better memory than I do, and she knew where it came from. Ccc012486 had a plotbunny about Sharon's team winning while she and Andy watched a football game. I managed to mention football and Andy's team did lose, but then it just became an excuse to write ridiculous fluff and silly romance.

“I don’t know what statistics you’ve been reading up on, but they stand no chance whatsoever,” Sharon said, her tone no nonsense.

“Forget the statistics,” Andy disagreed, rather heatedly, “they’ve got this, you’ll see.”

“No, honey,” Sharon’s tone went up to a faux sympathetic one, “ _you_ ’ll see.”

This was the conversation Rusty walked in on as he ventured out of his room in search of a bottle of water to take with him before heading out. He found his mother and her husband in what seemed to be a verbal standoff, glaring at each other in challenge from their respective sides of the couch. 

He burst whatever weird bubble they were in. “What on earth are you two bickering about now?” He said the last word on a whine, more than justified in his exasperation, seeing as he had lost count of how many times he had found them like this. 

Both heads turned in his direction. 

Andy instantly muttered, “Football,” while Sharon rolled her eyes and said indignantly, “We’re not _bickering_.”

Rusty laughed and pointed a finger between them, continuing his stroll toward the kitchen. “You should try getting your stories straight.”

He didn’t hear his mother’s response, but distinctly made out Andy’s grumbled, “Smartass.”

By the time Rusty had retrieved his water and walked back to the living room, the two had left their opposing ends of the couch and met in the middle, Sharon tucked into Andy’s side as he flipped through the TV channels.

“Made up already?” Rusty teased, then made a disgustingly sweet ‘aaww’ sound.

Sharon lifted her head to grace him with a half-hearted glare, but it was Andy, who without sparing him even a glance, and blowing his annoyance ever so slightly out of proportion by adopting a particularly exasperated tone, grumbled, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

The question halted Rusty just short of the hallway leading down to his room. “As a matter of fact, I do.” When his eyes landed on Andy’s final choice on the TV, he pointed his bottle at the screen and grimaced exaggeratedly. “And thank goodness that I do.”

“What’s wrong with watching football?” Sharon asked, mildly offended, and turned to face Rusty fully.

“Oh, watching football’s just fine,” Rusty shook his head, “it’s watching it with you two that just...” he trailed off on a feigned shudder.

Sharon suddenly turned back to Andy. “You’re right. He _is_ a smartass.”

Andy let out a throaty chuckle. “Mark the date and time.” He made a show of checking and tapping his watch. “Sharon Raydor admits Andrew Flynn is right about something.”

Sharon’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned back a little to cross her arms, then pursed her lips as she leveled Andy with a stare that quickly dampened his earlier luster. Suppressing a proud grin for being able to mess with him quite so easily, Sharon kept her tone teasing, even as her voice dipped low, and she simply said, “Oh, I cannot wait to see your team get crushed to a pulp.”

Making a conscious effort not to roll his eyes at them, Rusty interjected before the situation could escalate, or worse, potentially scar him for life. “ _His_ team?” he asked, genuinely curious, as he waved his bottle at the TV again. He might be clueless about the sport in general, but even he could tell neither Sharon nor Andy’s favorite team was playing that day. “You know what?” he added quickly, raising a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture before either one could reply. He shook his head, too, deciding he didn’t need any more details. “Nevermind. I’ll just, uhm,” he hooked a thumb in the direction of his bedroom, already retreating that way with a couple of backwards steps, “head out before you two football freaks make me seriously question ever agreeing to being part of this family.” He turned on his heel, and quietly, but still loudly enough for them to hear, corrected himself. “Or well, before Mom does anyway.”

Andy burst out laughing, breaking Sharon’s concentrated effort of still staring him down. Her eyes went wide at her son’s (only too warranted) words and she swallowed an offended gasp, then tilted her head in Rusty’s direction to sing-song after him, “It’s called being passionate about something!”

When no response came, Andy tugged on her arm until she unfolded them and pulled her into his side again. “Don’t worry,” he squeezed her gently, “I for one love the football freak in you.” When Sharon stiffened, no doubt wanting to pull back and slap him with one more glare, he quickly tightened his hold around her, and plopped a kiss into her hair all the while grinning. Sharon let it go quickly, however, only muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Surrounded by smartasses,’ and by the time they returned their attention to the TV, Rusty finally shuffled back to the front door. 

“It’s called being ridiculous,” he informed her quite matter-of-factly, then without further ado and certainly without expecting either Andy’s or Sharon’s response, swung open the door and walked out with a, “I’m off, bye!”

Affronted by the young man’s audacity, Sharon pushed herself off Andy’s chest and watched with wide eyes as the door closed behind him, speechless. On a chuckle, Andy pointed his finger at it. “He gets that from you, you know?”

Sharon frowned, looking back at him in confusion. “Gets what from me?”

“Wanting to always have the last word,” Andy quipped.

She smacked him across the chest even as she made herself comfortable against his side again. “Oh, hush you.”

Undeterred, Andy kept on chuckling, then, as the commentators started discussing pregame statistics and strategies, randomly asked, “Do we have any snacks?”

Sharon tilted her head up to look at him. “We _just_ ate.”

“So what?” Andy shrugged, shaking her a little in the process. “Can’t watch football without having something to munch on.” 

Sharon gave him a serious look of consideration, and Andy could practically hear the wheels of her sense of occasion turning. “You make a good point,” she decided, giving his arm a squeeze as she untangled herself from it.

Andy grinned smugly and pumped his fist in victory. “I’m on a roll tonight!” 

Sharon shook her head at him, then inclined it to the side, her brow creasing together in seriousness. “Healthy snacks though,” she said sternly, getting to her feet to round the couch.

Andy flopped his head down onto the backrest of the couch and groaned. “Like carrot and celery sticks?” he suggested sarcastically, but there was genuine dread in the words as well.

“Why not?” Sharon countered, brushing her fingers through his hair as she walked past his head.

Unable to tell if her tone indicated those were exactly the kind of snacks she had in mind or not, Andy narrowed his eyes, rolling his head to follow the rest of her movement. “Maybe this,” he waved a hand at the empty coffee table, “is just fine after all.”

She laughed, then disappeared from view. 

Andy huffed. He didn’t often get these cravings. He’d gotten used to and even learned to enjoy their heart-healthy diet, but today he’d kill for a bucket of greasy chicken wings or a box of even greasier pizza. Even a pack of pretzel sticks or a bag of chips would do. Anything would, but the likes of celery and carrots.

“You sure about that?” Sharon’s voice carried to him from the kitchen, pulling Andy out of his self-pity.

Her teasing undertone only confused him, until he heard the ping of numbers being punched into the microwave. He straightened on the spot instantly. “What’s that?” he asked suspiciously.

Sharon poked her head out into his field of view, and wiggled an eyebrow at him. “You’ll see,” she said, cryptically.

Andy didn’t dare hold high hopes for confirming his suspicions, but when he heard a pop, soon followed by a number of others, he grinned widely. “You mean I’ll _hear_ ,” he said, loudly enough for her to hear him over both the sound of the microwave and the popping.

Sharon appeared again, walking back toward the couch carrying two tall glasses of water, and smiled at his excited disposition. “Better than carrots and celery?” she asked, handing him the glasses to put on the coffee table. When he did, she turned her back to him and leaned against the back of the couch.

Andy sank into the cushions and looked at her with a dreamy smile on his face. “Much.” 

She chuckled, then ran a hand affectionately down the side of his face, no doubt to lessen the blow of the words that followed. “There is a catch, however.” 

“Ugh.” Andy grunted. “I knew it was too good to be true,” he grumbled petulantly.

Sharon laughed, running her nails down the line of his jaw, then grinned when Andy failed to dip his chin down fast enough to trap her hand before she pulled it back. “It’s a low-sodium mix,” she explained. “Spicy, but not salty.”

Andy’s eyebrow quirked skeptically. “Is it any good?” 

Just then, the microwave pinged it was finished, and Sharon moved off the couch. “We’re about to find out,” she said, going to retrieve their popcorn.

“Can’t wait,” Andy said in a tone that held zero optimism, but Sharon didn’t hear him.

When she finally returned, she dropped the bowl of popcorn into his lap as she walked around the couch to find her seat again. When Andy looked at her, his eyebrows went up at the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh,” he grimaced, looking at the bowl in disgust, “that bad?”

A short burst of giggles bubbled out of her. “No,” she grabbed a few popcorns and happily chewed on them. “They’re not bad at all actually.”

Andy continued to appraise the popcorn with distrust, but asked, “Then what’s,” he waved a finger at her face, “all that about?”

She swallowed, then bit the inside of her cheek to contain a smile. “I may have another snack for you,” she informed him with a playful bob of her eyebrow.

Andy’s head snapped up to look at her, his hand pausing halfway on its path to test the popcorn. “Is that so?” he asked suggestively, leaning toward her, his eyes on her lips.

She tilted her head up and quickly acquiesced to his wordless request for a kiss, then laughing a little, said, “Not _that_ kind of snack.”

“Oh, God,” Andy mumbled and flopped the side of his head against the backrest. “You’re stuffing me with carrots and celery after all, aren’t you?”

She giggled. “Actually…” She pulled her hand out from behind her back Andy didn’t even notice she had been purposefully hiding from him. “Cheat day,” she added, wiggling a bag of potato chips in front of him.

“No way,” he let out lowly, lifting his head and his eyes going wide.

“Way,” Sharon countered, then put two fingers underneath his chin, pushing up his dropped jaw.

“I love you,” Andy said on a happy sigh, ducking his head to kiss the two fingers on his chin.

“Ah-ah,” Sharon warned, tapping his lips with the digits he just kissed.

“Another catch?” Andy asked, suddenly resigned, stuffing his mouth with a handful of popcorn, for a moment forgetting he didn’t even know if it was any good. “Oh,” the taste distracted him, “this _is_ nice,” he said over his mouthful.

“Told ya,” Sharon said proudly.

He ignored her gloating. “So,” Andy eyed the bag of chips she had produced, “what’s it gonna cost me?”

Sharon looked at the TV, momentarily chewing on her bottom lip. “I was thinking we make this a little more interesting.”

Andy shifted on the spot, putting just a bit more distance between them to look at her with curiosity. “Do I like where this is going?”

“If you want this,” she waved the bag, the rustling and rattling sounds music to Andy’s ears, “then most definitely.”

His wheels turning, Andy looked at the TV where the game was just about to start. “Oh,” he said when he finally figured it out, “you’re thinking bets.”

She smiled instantly. “I am.”

“My team wins, I get that,” he eyed the bag hungrily, “your team wins, you eat it?”

Her smile widened. “Precisely.”

Andy turned toward the TV and relaxed fully into the couch, propping his socked feet up on the table and grabbing another handful of popcorn. “You’re on.”

Caught between shaking her head and laughing at his childish excitement, Sharon put the prize down on the coffee table, then leaned back into Andy’s side. “Hold your horses, my dear,” she mumbled, snaking her hands around his arm, “those are mine.”

“Nope,” Andy disagreed confidently. “I told you, I’m on a roll today.”

She laughed, grabbing some popcorn out of the bowl in his lap. “Not for long.” She dropped just a single corn into her mouth, then repeated, “Not for long.”

Halfway into the game, Andy was a huffing, puffing and disappointed mess, most likely a little exaggerated for Sharon’s benefit, but she still had an incredibly hard time not to laugh at him. When he suddenly grabbed the remote and turned off the TV in frustration, her self-restraint vanished and she burst out into snorts, failing miserably at hiding them in his arm. “I was watching that,” she managed in between her laughs.

He extracted his arm from out of her hold and shuffled nearly all the way to the other side of the couch. He glared at her as he put the bowl of popcorn down on the table, then took the bag of chips that lay next to it. “Take it,” he practically threw it into her lap, “you win.”

She caught the bag, a tad clumsily. “Teams have recovered from worse, Andy,” she offered optimistically, and she might have even been convincing, had her voice not trembled with suppressed laughter.

He continued to glare at her, his tone as begrudging and pessimistic as it possibly could be. “The hand of God can’t save that mess of a team.” He struck a hand out in the direction of the now black screen as if she hadn’t seen exactly how dreadful they were.

Sharon snorted, not disagreeing. “Well,” she finally said, preparing to open the bag, “if you’re sure…” She eyed the TV, then Andy. “I mean, the game’s not over yet.”

“I’m sure,” he grumbled, slumping back into the couch, now avoiding to look at her. “Knock yourself out,” he added, crossing his arms.

Her lips pressing into a tight line in order to stop herself from further laughing at him, Sharon opened the bag. When she reached inside and took a chip out, she watched him intently as she slowly put it in her mouth, but he steadfastly refused to so much as glance her way. Not being one to give up so easily, she bit into it, making it crunch loudly, but when not even that chipped away at his resolve, she let out a low moan and nearly snorted again, when that instantly, and most likely reflexively, had his head turn toward her.

“Delicious,” she told him, her tone, in Andy’s opinion, far too seductive to be talking about a strip of baked potato.

“There’s no need to rub it in, you know,” he muttered, his lip curling in displeasure.

Having his attention now, she openly grinned at him, and took another chip out of the bag. She placed it into her mouth just as slowly, then repeated both the crunching sound and her low moan. The way he frowned, even as his eyes flashed with lustful hunger, had her wonder what seemed more alluring to him, the chips or her. Something told her it was the chips and the thought only caused her to laugh a little more.

As if seeking at least some comfort, Andy briefly leaned forward to stick his hand into the popcorn bowl. Chewing furiously around his mouthful, he pushed himself back into the couch, and grumbled, “Now you’re just being plain cruel.”

“I might,” her voice shook with amusement, but she paused deliberately until he looked at her just in time to see her slowly lick the salt off her fingers, and she suppressed a grin when his mouth dropped open and he stared stupidly at her, “be persuaded to share.”

He closed his mouth, but only to bite into his bottom lip. “Yeah?” he managed, having to clear his throat when the word came out hoarsely.

She offered an affirmative hum, and the sound drew his eyes up to hers, pulling him out of his temporary stupor. “Persuaded,” he was a little wary now, “ _how_?”

His suspiciousness made her chuckle because she had no intention of living up to his idea of torture. “Oh,” she reached out the hand holding the bag of chips, wiggling it a little, “just get back here, and help yourself.”

He didn’t need telling twice, but to her complete and gasp-eliciting surprise, when he reached her, he didn’t go for the potato chips, but for her lips, catching them in a hungry kiss. Before she had a chance to respond, he pulled back, then, sounding a little surprised himself, said, “You taste like potato chips.”

She barely managed to laugh, when his lips landed on hers again. She responded this time, her hand finding the back of his head to keep him precisely where he was. When his tongue darting out and swiping over her bottom lip drew a strangled groan from him, she smiled, breaking the kiss and resting her forehead against his. “Why do I get the feeling this is about the chips and not us?”

Andy pecked her lips one more time, then pulled away a little to look her in the eye. “Oh, it’s definitely about the chips,” he finally stole a chip from the bag she was still somehow clutching and plopped it into his mouth, pausing to moan in pleasure as he munched on it, “but also,” he leaned in to kiss her once more even though he was still chewing, “very much about _you_.”

Sharon was certain he meant his words, and it drew an affectionate little smile out of her, but when he immediately after stole another couple of chips out of her bag and continued snacking on them happily, she snorted. “Maybe I should leave you two alone.” She even started pushing at him to further her point.  
  
“Uh-uh,” Andy disagreed, shaking his head. He shifted a little so they were side to side, then dug a chip out of the bag and offered it to her. “I’m in a sharing mood,” he added seriously.

“ _You_ ,” the word was laced with incredulity and one of her eyebrows shot up, “are in a sharing mood?” She bit off the chip he held out anyway.

“Mhm,” he hummed confidently, then rubbed his fingers together before digging into the bag yet again.

That made her laugh again. She let Andy take over the bag, then helped herself to some chips and said, “I’ve married a child.”

Sharon had to trap her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent herself from laughing when his entire demeanor only corroborated her words; the bland expression on his face, the almost protective way he was clutching the bag in his lap, and last but not least, Andy’s chip-loaded hand hanging in the air, midway to his mouth. “You like the child in me,” he told her nonchalantly, tilting his head back to drop the pile into his mouth. 

He had her there, and because it was simply impossible to deny it, her mouth immediately stretched into a besotted smile. The discovery that he could be silly to the point of ridiculousness had been something she stumbled upon long before a romantic relationship crossed either one of their minds. It endeared him to her, as she would later realize, not just because this side so clashed with the tough, quick to anger Lieutenant, but because like her, there weren’t that many people he relaxed around enough to reveal it. Being one of those few chosen ones warmed her heart back when they were just friends, and the feeling only intensified over the years, especially as he slowly, without her even truly noticing, uncovered her own dorky side. 

The absence of loud crunching noises slowly drew Sharon out of her musings, and as she returned to reality, she found Andy watching her with interest.

He wiggled some chips in front of her. “Chip for your thoughts?”

She giggled. Yes, she absolutely adored the child in him, and she found no reason not to tell him as much. She stilled his hand, and leaned in to wrap her lips around the proffered chips, then once she chewed and swallowed, said, “I _adore_ the child in you.”

His mouth opened and then a corner of it took an upward turn as it formed a lopsided, goofy, and coincidentally, childlike smile. His hand went for her cheek, then slipped into her hair before she could fully pull back. When he pressed his lips to hers this time, chips were most definitely _not_ on his mind.

He released her lips only to trail a path of kisses along the line of her jaw, causing her to grip his shoulders for support. “We have the condo,” he mumbled when he reached her ear, “to ourselves,” he caught her earlobe gently between his teeth, then released it as he pulled back to grin at her obscenely, “don’t we?”

On a sigh, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, her hold on his shoulders slackening. “Mhm,” she hummed in a way that had Andy capture her lips one more time.

His attentions were interrupted on a grunt when he squeezed the bag he miraculously still had ahold of a tad too tightly, and in turn, quite loudly, crushed a few of his precious chips. He frowned at it, making Sharon laugh, who quickly helped by extricating it out of his hand and flopping it down on the table. For a second, a look of regret, or was it longing, flashed in Andy’s eyes, as if perhaps he wasn’t quite ready to part with his beloved snack just yet, but it was quickly forgotten when Sharon huffed impatiently and planted a hand at the back of his neck to press her lips to his again. 

He slipped his hands underneath her shirt, then on an insistent squeeze, nudged her into his lap, never once letting go of the kiss. When she straddled him, however, it was Sharon who broke it, moving the hair out of her face with an elegant shake of her head. She dropped her forehead to his and whispered, “You should lose bets like these more often.”

“You should feed me potato chips more often,” he countered, making his point by bucking his hips into her.

She giggled in that rare, carefree, high-pitched tone of hers, then kissed him again. He grinned when they let up for air and their combined breathing fogged up her glasses. When she put a hand against his chest, getting some distance between them, and unceremoniously tore them off her face, he chuckled.

She folded her glasses, but did not let go of them as she tangled her hands behind his neck. She squinted, for show really, and complained. “You’re blurry.”

He pulled his hands out from underneath her shirt and clasped her face, his thumbs running over her cheekbones until she stopped squinting. “You’re beautiful.”

She instantly smiled. 

“Especially your eyes,” he added, letting go of her cheeks to brush his thumbs affectionately across the crinkles that appeared in their corners.

“Charmer,” she muttered, but dipped her head to kiss him quickly again anyway.

Grinning, he dropped his hands and focused on them as he slipped them beneath her shirt again. When he thrummed his fingers lightly against her sides and her posture stiffened, he smirked. “Just speaking my truth.” 

When his fingers traced the edge of her bra, Sharon clasped his wrists and straightened. He looked up to find her matching his smirk with a coy smile of her own. “Let’s save some truths for the bedroom.” She ground against his lap just in case he was missing her point.

On a low groan, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. When she laughed, he recovered and caught her off guard by dipping his hands to her lower back and sliding her closer across his lap. The sudden movement had her throw her head back long enough for Andy’s lips to latch onto the revealed skin of her neck. Careful not to leave a mark, he sucked on a spot he knew to be particularly sensitive and distracting, then mumbled, “Let’s.”

Before Sharon could do so much as moan in pleasure, his hands dipped even lower, to the backs of her thighs, and in one swift motion he was on his feet with her. 

Alarmed, she instinctively hooked her legs around him and clutched desperately at his neck, dropping her glasses to the couch. “Andy, put me down!”

He adjusted his hold on her, then kissed her cheek. “Nope.”

She relaxed, but only in exasperation. “You’re not twenty anymore, you know?”

“I know,” he agreed a bit regretfully, making her smile. “Just,” he jostled her a little until she was even more securely in his arms, “trust me.”

“I trust _you_ ,” Sharon said indignantly, but did rest her chin against his shoulder, missing the immediate smile the easy constatation drew on Andy’s face, “it’s your old bones I’m wary of.” 

“Ouch,” he said, then squeezing her thighs in retaliation, added, “I’ll show you old in a minute.” When she chuckled, instead of heading to the bedroom to make good on his promise, he remembered the discarded bag of chips and with the intention of folding it close so its contents didn’t dry out, he bent down a little. In the process, he dipped Sharon and, holding onto him more tightly, she let out a startled “Oh, my God!”

Straightening again and making sure she was safely in his arms, on steady feet Andy finally started walking toward their bedroom. “Started without me?” he teased.

Sharon snorted into his neck.

It wasn’t until they were safely ensconced behind the closed door of their bedroom that Andy let her back down to her feet, his arms only loosely looped around her.

She tried to glare away his cocky smirk, but instead, a smile crept upon her face on its own volition and she found purchase on his hips, pulling him closer to her. She still had her wits about her though. “I’m waiting,” she challenged, “old bo-”

He cut her off with a bruising kiss.

…

The following morning, Andy woke first. At the feel of an arm resting heavily on his chest, he instantly grinned and looked to his side. Sharon lay sprawled on her stomach, facing away from him. He suppressed a chuckle when he realized she was taking up a good two thirds of their bed, then careful not to wake her, slowly moved her arm. She didn’t stir awake, but did tuck her arm under her pillow in response. Andy itched to run a hand down the exposed skin of her upper back, but—he remembered this on a smug smirk—he’d proven what old bones could still do the previous night, and decided she’d appreciate the extra sleep, even if he was certain she wouldn’t mind the attentions he’d have in store for her if he did wake her up.

Seeing though that he would not be falling back asleep, but being too lazy to actually get up and start his day, he reached for his phone.

After he turned off the alarm clock, he opened his news app. Same old recycled news from the day, if not week, before, of course, filled his screen, and he was just about to find something else to do, when a headline in the sports section caught his eye. ‘Last Night’s Spectacular Recovery...’ part of the title read, underneath a photo of the banners of the teams that had clashed the previous evening. He clicked the ‘read more’ link, then instantly sat up as he scanned the article. “They what?!” he exclaimed, then immediately winced at his loud voice, his eyes darting to Sharon’s sleeping form.

She woke, of course, a sleepy, disgruntled moan coming out of her. She turned her head his way, then frowned. “What’s with the yelling?”

Andy was no longer sorry for waking her up. “They won!” He pointed a finger at his phone screen, then at himself. “ _I_ won the bet!”

Sharon closed her eyes, her brow momentarily creasing further, needing a second to remember what bet he was talking about. When she did, her eyes flew open. “You did?”

“Yes!” Andy exclaimed yet again, all but shoving his phone in her face when she pushed herself up on her elbows. “Ugh,” he groaned when she took his phone to read through the article, “I could have had those chips all to myself,” he mumbled disappointedly.

Sharon flung the phone back in his lap. “You wouldn’t have shared?” she asked, her voice thinning, offended.

Andy looked at her blandly, his response matter-of-fact. “You and I both know who the bigger person in this relationship is.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “You’re so not getting the rest of them.”

“The hell I’m not,” Andy disagreed. “I won ‘em fair and square.”

With that, he flung the covers off himself, draping them over Sharon in the process, and practically jumped out of bed. 

With a jerked movement, Sharon freed herself of the offending item just in time to see Andy swinging his bathrobe over him and heading for the door. She was on her feet equally as quickly, grabbing and wrapping her own robe around herself as she hurried after him.

She nearly bumped into his back, however, when she reached the living room. 

“They’re gone,” Andy whispered disbelievingly, standing rooted to the spot and staring at the coffee table. 

“What’s gone?” Rusty appeared out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes landing on his mother, he added on a smile, “Good morning, by the way.”

Sharon tied the sash of her robe a bit more securely, then joined Andy at his side. “Good morning,” she greeted, matching his smile, then chanced a glance at Andy, a dumbstruck look on his face. When it didn’t seem like he would be responding to Rusty’s question any time soon, she did so in his stead. “There was a bag of potato chips,” she waved a hand at the coffee table, “there.”

“Oh,” Rusty followed her wave, then scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I haven’t had potato chips in like forever, so,” he grimaced, realizing he perhaps shouldn’t have done what he was about to admit to doing, “I may have polished it off when I came home last night.” 

That jump-started Andy’s ability to speak. “You what?” he practically screeched.

At the same time, Sharon burst out laughing.

Andy continued incredulously. “But you ignored the half-full bowl of popcorn?” He waved a hand at the bowl that in fact still stood on the table, more than a sizable portion of popcorn in it.

Rusty winced. “I like them crunchy, and these already went stale.”

“He likes them cru-” Andy couldn’t even finish repeating Rusty’s sentence, but looked wildly around the room, unbelieving. “Are you hearing this?” he suddenly asked Sharon.

She hid her mouth behind both of her palms, unable to contain her laughter.

Rusty frowned at this point, absolutely baffled by both their reactions. “What’s the big deal?”

As Andy instantly started on a mini rant, describing exactly what the big deal was, Rusty just stared at him. For a while now, a big topic in the household was Sharon and Andy’s medically conditioned diets. Sharon found it less difficult to make the transition. For as long as Rusty had known her, she was always watching what she ate, and regularly made sure he, too, ate more than just junk food or take out. Andy, however, who had actually had more time to get used to it, seeing as he was on doctor’s order ever since his blood clot ordeal, grumbled about all his restrictions often enough that Rusty, and he suspected his mom, too, simply learned to tune him out, whenever he got particularly prickly about it. Like now.

The healthier diet was never forced on Rusty though. He still indulged in plenty of burgers and fries, but it had kind of become the norm for there not to be all that many unhealthy snacks lying around the house. Still, sometimes he’d go out and stock up on some, sometimes his mom would think of him and get him something, even Andy remembered to get something for him if he went on a grocery run. So when he came home last night, he didn’t think twice about enjoying the bag he found on the coffee table. Their reactions now though, confused the hell out of him. Hoping to make up for it, and really to just put an end to this increasingly strange conversation, he interrupted Andy and said, “Look, I’ll get you a new one.”

Two simultaneous, equally as baffling, responses came at that.

“You sure will,” Andy agreed threateningly.

“No need,” Sharon said dismissively.

Then the duo turned to glare at each other.

Rusty gave the heavens an exasperated look, part of him truly seeking out divine help. “Not this again,” he mumbled, ignoring them and going over to the couch.

“Cheat day was yesterday,” Sharon said, and this drew Rusty’s attention again and he turned his head to look at them. Things were beginning to make a little more sense.

“ _Yesterday_ ?” Andy threw his arms out. “What yesterday? You mean those five _minutes_ before—” He suddenly snapped his mouth shut, throwing Rusty a quick look as he obviously remembered they weren’t alone. 

Sharon smirked, raising an eyebrow and taking half a step back as she folded her arms in nothing if not challenge.

Rusty took a sip of his coffee, and actually sent out a quiet prayer for Andy not to take her up on it. He could already deduce much more than he wanted to, and he’d appreciate being spared any more details. Unfortunately, as Andy still considered his response, Rusty’s eyes fell on the glasses Sharon had dropped on the couch the previous evening. Having eaten the chips in his room when he came home, he hadn’t noticed them before. Now, however, they only further helped his deductive skills and he regretted not drinking his coffee in his room as well. He picked them up, then interrupted them just as Andy opened his mouth to finally say something. “Really?” he drawled, dangling the glasses between two fingers as if they were too sullied for full skin-on-plastic contact.

Andy rolled his eyes and snatched the glasses out of his hold, handing them unceremoniously over to Sharon. “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter,” he muttered. “Nothing happened.” He shot Sharon, who put her glasses on, an absolutely filthy look, and added, still in a very much grumbling tone, but quietly, for her ears only, “Not _here_ anyway.”

Rusty didn’t hear what he said, but did not miss his look, and what was more, the way his mother actually squirmed, blushed and laughed all at once. He dropped his head over the backrest of the couch, squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “Guys!”

Andy must have decided that mental image was enough punishment for his faux pas, for Rusty felt him walking past his head in the direction of the kitchen, a low chuckle emanating from him. Then a hand he knew belonged to Sharon disturbed his hair. When he opened his eyes to look at her upside down, she was smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,” she rolled her eyes at Andy’s grouchy mood, “he was really excited about those potato chips.”

Completely misinterpreting her words, Rusty’s eyes went wide and he lifted his head, a horrified “Mom!” on his lips. 

She glared at the back of his head, unimpressed. Having reached her limit for tolerating his exaggerated disgust of them, she pointed a finger threateningly at Rusty’s head. “You know what,” she then started following Andy into the kitchen, “just for that, you now owe us _two_ bags.” She ignored Andy’s ensuing victorious laugh, then knowing Rusty would whirl around to stare at her, turned to meet his look, daring him to disobey.

Rusty instantly retreated, muttering a quick, obedient, “Yes, Mom.” He flopped his head back down on the couch, and grumbled loud enough to make Sharon laugh, “I’m never eating potato chips again.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
